Of Perfect Timing

Clock in Jewelry Box

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To quote Voltaire’s Candide we live in the, “best of all possible worlds.” Now I don’t know how much truth is in that statement, but it’s a hard phrase to argue with. Obviously this is the best world, after all, it’s the only one we got. Thus, it can only be the best.

However, there are choices we make that, in theory, are not the best possible option. For instance how many of us should have been studying one subject and decide that now is the best possible time to learn more about the cast members of Glee, how starfish live, or how to make your own marshmallows? At that point you’re learning, but it’s not the right kind of productivity.

It’s wonderful at the time, it feels like you’re learning. At that moment it doesn’t matter to you that the information you’re consuming is seen as useless to a large portion of society. For you are making the best possible choice, plus, technically you’re learning – it’s just not what you’re supposed to be learning.

I’ve found that the best possible time to write is when I’m supposed to be writing something else. I should be working on cover letters and writing samples, but it feels like a really good time to ramble about perfect timing and post my thoughts on the Internet.

I always want to apply for jobs when I’m supposed to leave for work.

I always want to read a book when I have a different one assigned.

I always want to clean my house when I should be asleep.

I always want ice cream when it’s cold and hot chocolate when it’s warm.

I always want to go shopping when I need to pay my bills.

It’s an endless cycle, but there’s one thing I’ve learned: the best possible time to do something is when you’re supposed to be doing something else, after all, we live in the best of all possible worlds. Therefore, everything we do is for the best.



Of Taking Pride in Who You Are

Me in the Sun

Me just hanging out like normal people do.

I’ve said it aloud, I figure it’s time I write it down.

The way I see it (in terms of my talents, intelligence, and physical beauty):

  • I’m not the best
  • I’m not the worst
  • But, I’m better than most

Maybe that’s a conceited way of thinking, maybe it’s a healthy honest mindset, and maybe it’s a little of both.

I really don’t think of myself as cocky. I’m fully aware that there are people who can kick my ass at the things I claim to be good at.

And I will always be honest about what I completely suck at. For instance, sports. It’s a hopeless case, my brain can’t even grasp what to do or the appeal. So how could my body ever manage such a feat as making a basket or hitting something small with an equally small stick. Hopeless.

Plus, I don’t care, I also have essentially no competitive drive. Yeah, um, you really ought not to ask me to play on your team.

But I do care about quality, I have personal standards, and I’ll admit for certain things (personal appearance, work ethic, writing, coffee, etc) they are high. Especially if it’s something that I’m natural at, take for instance, writing. I’m always shocked by how bad some of my fellow creative writing majors are at writing. I can’t believe how many plotless or utterly unoriginal fiction pieces I’ve read. Nor how many wonderful personal stories were written in a way that didn’t do justice to their life experience. There should really be a screening process.

And I like pretty things, I like nice hair, cute dresses, awesome shoes, sexy lingerie. I like to feel pretty and I wish everyone would capitalize on their prettiness potential.

I’m not one of those feminists who think that everyone can be hot as hell. But, I do believe that everyone can look beautiful if they take pride in their appearance and don’t give me that “I don’t care what people think” spiel. Everyone cares, whether they admit it or not, everyone wants people to say, “Wow,” when they walk in a room. Take pride in who you are. Own it.